


I'd Call That Serious

by ever_ever_never



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood and Gore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:59:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3304901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_ever_never/pseuds/ever_ever_never
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a prompt - People know that the Inquisitor and Iron Bull are together, but they assume it's only physical. When Lavellan is captured by templars it becomes clear that the relationship is more serious than they thought.</p><p>FYI - Some characters express jerky (and probably OOC) views about race and sexuality. They suck and are wrong, but it needed to happen because of story reasons. Also there's blood. I hope I'm doing the rating and tags right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Call That Serious

“How serious could it possibly be?” asked Cassandra. “I mean, Bull has quite a... _reputation_.”

“You heard the Inquisitor,” Cullen answered, tipping his glass up and taking a huge swig of wine before continuing. “He said they mean to continue. Maker, I’ll never open a door without knocking again.”

“But continue for how long?” asked Josephine, sipping delicately at her own wineglass, though it was nearly empty. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but they simply cannot carry on like that at Halamshiral. It will be hard enough to gain the court’s approval with Kirron being an elf _and_ a mage. Add a qunari lover - a man, at that - and it’ll be a full-blown scandal.”

“Maybe the problem will resolve itself,” said Cassandra, eyeing her empty cup and the matching bottle that sat between the three of them on the table. “Iron Bull does not seem to be the settling down type.”

“True,” said Josephine. “I will ask Leliana to keep a discreet eye on the situation in the meantime. Halamshiral is still over a month away. We may be worrying for nothing.”

“I don’t like to hope things won’t work out for them,” said Cullen. “However... it’s surely for the best.”

“Yes,” Cassandra agreed. “Kirron has more important things to focus on than... _that_.”

Cullen got up to fetch them another bottle of wine, and the three of them spent the rest of the afternoon getting spectacularly drunk as they tried to forget what they’d seen.

 

***

 

The problem did not resolve itself.

It was unclear if they were just getting caught more often, or if things were heating up between them, but it wasn’t long before every member of the inner circle had stumbled across the two of them doing unspeakable things to one another. Josephine was certain she’d heard them, after a late night in her office, doing Maker-knew-what on the elaborate throne in the main hall.

Their trip to Halamshiral was two weeks off when disaster struck.

For once, Kirron had left Iron Bull behind in Skyhold while he went off to champion the Inquisition in the Western Approach. Bull had sustained a minor injury during their last trip, and despite being almost completely healed, Kirron had insisted that he stay home and rest. Cassandra had some business in the area anyway, and it would be a short trip, just to tie up a few loose ends in the desert before they left for the Winter Palace.

Bull had complained and tried his best to change Kirron’s mind, to the horror of everyone in the tavern, but the Inquisitor had stood firm. He was the boss, after all, and eventually Bull had been forced to concede, though he was clearly not happy about it. When Kirron rode through the gates, he turned to blow a kiss to the sullen qunari, who frowned but pretended to catch it anyway.

Four days later, Cullen was awoken in the middle of the night by a pounding on his door. Grumbling, he climbed down the ladder into his office and flung it open, meaning to shout at whoever had disturbed him, but it was Josephine, teary-eyed and frantic.

“Commander! It’s - they’ve just come through the gates - but Kirron and Cassandra...” she babbled.

Cullen felt the blood drain from his face. He grabbed her shoulders and said loudly, “Josephine, tell me what’s wrong!”

Even in the darkness, he could see her trembling as she said, “D-Dorian and Sera... they’ve just returned, but Kirron and Cassandra aren’t with them. They said they were ambushed by templars as soon as they reached the desert.”

“Where are they?” demanded Cullen, grabbing his coat from his desk and following her out the door.

“In the mage tower,” Josephine sobbed. “It’s awful, Cullen. The two of them stumbled in, half dead... Dorian looks like he’s seen hell itself. I don’t want to imagine what’s happened to-”

“We’ll find them, don’t worry,” said Cullen, wishing he could believe his own words. “We’ll get them back.”

When they reached the tower, it seemed as if half of Skyhold was hovering outside it, despite the late hour. “Make way!” shouted the commander, grabbing Josephine’s hand to haul her through the crowd in his wake. “I said move!”

It was even worse than Josephine had described. A swarm of healers buzzed around Dorian and Sera, who both looked shell-shocked and terrified. Both of them were splattered with dried blood from head to toe and nursing some truly frightening injuries. When Josephine and Cullen made it through the door, Dorian stumbled to his feet, ignoring the protests of the healers, and rushed toward them. Cullen let go of Josephine just in time to catch the mage, who collapsed a foot away from them.

“Cullen, you have to go get him,” Dorian insisted. “They said - they said as soon as they could get the lyrium for it, they were going to... to make him... Tranquil.”

Bile rose in Cullen’s throat. “Tranquil? No, how could they - damn it!”

He handed Dorian off to Josephine and turned on his heel, shoving his way back out the door and yelling, “I need horses and men ready to leave in ten minutes! You there, go get-”

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a roar from the direction of the tavern. Iron Bull stormed through the door, followed closely by his lieutenant and the rest of his Chargers, buckling his armor on as he went. When he reached Cullen, he shouted, “To the void with ten minutes, we’re leaving _now_! Come or don’t, but do _not_ get in my way!”

Cullen hesitated a moment before following. When he got to the stables, he found Varric, Cole, and Blackwall waiting for him with his horse already saddled. He climbed onto his steed and followed as Bull and the Chargers led the way out of the gates at a gallop.

They rode hard for an entire day, stopping only to swap out as many horses as they could in a small village on the way. Bull barely spoke, but he radiated an aura of boiling rage that made Cullen very keen to keep his distance. They reached the desert as the sun rose over the burning sand the day after they’d left.

Scout Harding was waiting for them in the forward camp, looking horrified and sick, with huge dark circles under her eyes - Cullen suspected she hadn’t slept since the ambush. She looked about ready to faint when Iron Bull approached her to demand information, but thankfully, Krem intervened. No one else was brave enough to go anywhere near Bull, but Krem walked right up to the raging qunari and shoved him hard in the chest, shouting that he was scaring the dwarf. Another of the chargers guided Scout Harding away from them and calmed her down enough to spit out the location of the templar camp.

“There are so many of them,” Cullen heard her say hopelessly. “There’s only a few of us out here, most of our forces have already moved on. Not even our troops at the keep are enough to do any real damage, or we would have gone after them already.”

“Just point us in the right direction,” said the Charger, glancing over her shoulder at Bull. “We’re as good as an army at the moment.”

It only took an hour to make their way there. Harding had been right - templars were everywhere. Cullen formed a strategy as quickly as possible, and began to direct their meager force to the best possible positions, but he wasn’t quick enough. As soon as they were in range, Bull leapt from his huge horse and shouted as he ran forward, drawing the attention of the entire horde of templars. Krem was right behind him, and the rest of the Chargers followed but kept their distance.

It was quickly evident that their meager force was completely irrelevant. Cullen directed whatever troops they had to stay back and cover the Chargers at range, but it was hardly necessary. The commander had never really seen Bull in a serious fight before. Usually he just followed behind Kirron, mildly accepting the elf’s orders, but this battle was completely different.

Bull and Krem had charged straight into the encampment of templars, and were back to back, a slashing whirlwind of blood and steel. The rest of the Chargers hung back, picking off outliers but avoiding the two warriors, who moved around each other almost effortlessly. Bull was an untargeted maelstrom, blindly hacking his way through whichever templar was closest, as Krem darted and ducked around him, expertly avoiding the huge greatsword as he guarded Bull’s blind spot.

Cullen did not think of himself as a person that shied away from violence, but the bloodbath in front of him was a level of brutality that he’d never experienced before. Bull’s huge sword crashed down into his enemies, cutting through heavy templar armor like it was butter. Before the knights even knew what was happening, both he and Krem were drenched in blood and viscera, a path of severed limbs and broken corpses in their wake.

By the time the templars caught on and started running, the ground behind them was littered with bodies. The fleeing knights were caught between the Chargers and the other Inquisition members, their attempted escape failing before it even really began. When the last templar fell, Cullen turned to scour the camp for Cassandra and Kirron.

His heart nearly stopped as he saw the elf lying lifelessly on a rough wooden table, lyrium bottles strewn around him. Bull was clearly panicking as he tried fruitlessly to release Kirron’s wrists from the large leather straps that bound him to the table. His fingers were slippery with blood, but he kept trying, not seeming to notice Krem’s shoving this time.

Dropping his sword, Cullen stumbled toward them, boots slipping in the hot sand. “Is he-” Cullen started, but he couldn’t finish. If Kirron was Tranquil, he wanted to hold off knowing until the last possible second. Bull appeared not to hear him, anyway, and it didn’t seem wise to get within an arm’s length of the frantic qunari, so he turned to search for Cassandra.

He found her unconscious in a nearby tent, looking very much worse for wear, but breathing. Calling for someone to collect her, he lurched back outside as Bull roared in frustration. Krem gestured for Cullen’s help, and he waved the others into the tent to retrieve Cassandra before going to help drag Bull away from the elf.

As they hauled him backward, all the fight went out of him. He went limp and sunk to the sand, letting out a wail that shook Cullen to his very core. Krem dropped to his knees next to Bull, placing his hand on a hulking shoulder and staring helplessly at his friend as if he’d never seen anything worse in his life.

Cullen staggered back to the table and resumed the work that Bull’s shaking hands had not been able to finish, and soon Kirron was free of the restraints. There was no brand on his forehead - that was a good sign, but it wouldn’t matter if the ritual was interrupted too far in. Cullen leaned his head down to the elf’s chest and listened hard. It was faint, but there was a heartbeat.

“He’s alive,” he tried to say, but his voice came out scratchy and dry, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Bull, he’s alive.”

Cullen had never imagined someone Bull’s size could move so fast. He was there in an instant, shoving Cullen away from Kirron and scooping the elf into his arms, cradling him gently against his blood-soaked chest. Large hands roved over the Inquisitor’s small frame, checking for injuries and stroking rust-colored hair.

“Find water,” barked Bull, and Krem scrambled off to search through the tents. He returned moments later with a waterskin, which he smelled and drank from first before nodding and handing it to Bull.

The qunari gingerly lifted the skin to Kirron’s lips, tilting his head so the water would dribble down his throat without choking him. It seemed like ages before the familiar orangey eyes fluttered open, gazing up blankly at Bull for a moment before a crooked grin stole across his face.

“Knew you’d come...” said Kirron, voice rough.

“Kadan,” Bull answered softly. “Are you alright? What hurts?”

Kirron gave a little chuckle and said, “Everything. Where’s Cassandra?”

“She’s alive,” said Cullen, feeling oddly as if he were intruding on something private. “Not in much better shape than you, though. We need to get you both back to Skyhold.”

 

***

 

The trip back to the mountain stronghold was much slower than their headlong rush to the desert had been, but Cullen did not see Bull release Kirron through the whole journey. He carried the elf on his lap as they rode, clinging to him as if he were something precious and fragile. Kirron slept through most of the trip, pressed tightly against Bull’s chest with a peaceful smile on his face.

They arrived back at Skyhold three days later to find the whole place in a frenzy. After he assured everyone that the Inquisitor was alive and reasonably well, Cullen selected a few healers and escorted them to Kirron’s chambers. He couldn’t imagine they were up to anything just yet, but he knocked anyway and was granted entrance, climbing the stairs with the healers in tow.

After a large amount of cajoling and threats of calling Krem up, Bull let go of Kirron, setting him gently on the bed and hovering a few feet away while the healers examined him.

“I’m really fine,” he said calmly. “I’ve had worse, you don’t need to make such a fuss...”

The head healer shushed him and he dutifully obeyed, lying back on the bed and allowing them to work him over. When they were done, Bull was back in an instant, scooping the elf up and curling around him protectively. The healers looked mildly embarrassed, and Cullen followed them out of the room, closing the door tightly behind him.

“I’m telling you,” he said in the tavern later that night, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He was sitting, once again, with Josephine and Cassandra, sharing a bottle of wine between the three of them.

“It’s true,” said the Seeker. “Things must be more serious between them than we thought. The way Iron Bull is with him... that is not something I ever expected to see.”

“It is more than just a physical relationship, then?” asked Josephine curiously. “I was under the impression that it was mostly about the... er... entertainment.”

“I thought so, too,” said Cullen. “But I can’t believe that anymore. Bull is usually unshakable, but when he thought Kirron was dead... I’m telling you, he was distraught. He just collapsed right there in the sand, like he was going to die, too.”

“That’s... actually quite sweet,” said Josephine, looking misty-eyed. “I had no idea there was something deeper between them.”

“Kirron must feel the same,” Cassandra weighed in. “When we were captured, even under the threat of Tranquility, he was utterly confident that Bull would come for him. He kept _taunting_ our captors with it. I thought it false bravado at the time, but...”

“It seems we were wrong about them, then,” said Josephine. “However, someone will probably still have to have a talk with them, about Halamshiral. What I caught them doing that time in the gardens...”

“Certainly,” said Cullen. “That can’t go on at the Winter Palace. I’m still trying to forget what I saw in the war room last week. And I think I know just the man to have that conversation with them.”

He stood and made his way down the stairs, returning moments later with a very suspicious-looking Krem in tow.

 

***

 

“Did you see? Ze Inquisitor was _dancing_ with zat qunari! Zey are both men! Zis is our best hope of defeating Corypheus?”

Josephine stood in the shadows behind the gossiping nobles, her delicate hands tight around the glass she was holding. A month ago, her own words had sounded similar to that of Madame Ashworth’s, and her face burned with shame at the fact. Since she’d started really looking, she’d found the love between Kirron and Iron Bull to be both heart-meltingly sweet and as solid as Skyhold.

Pasting on her best polite smile, she stepped forward, sidling up to Madame Ashworth’s side and barely inclining her head toward the lady. Quietly enough for only her target to hear, she murmured, “It is strange, Madame Ashworth. I could swear I heard a rumor this past summer about your brother Leopold’s dalliance with your cousin - Gavin, was it? If the couple on the dance floor is such an offense, I am sure we could find a way to draw attention away from it, don’t you think?”

As she sauntered away, Josephine heard Madame Ashworth say loudly, “Of course, eet is wonderful to see ze Inquisitor ‘appy, no matter what form zat may take! He is, after all, one of ze most powerful men in Thedas! Surely he deserves a respite from the pressures of leadership! He is quite  bold!”

Josephine smiled to herself as she went to find Leliana, to cross Madame Ashworth off the list of influential nobles whose opinion they would need to sway. As she waited for the spymaster to finish a whispered conversation with Cullen, she watched Kirron and Bull, happily ignorant of the Game and its players as they swept across the dance floor, looking for all the world as if they were the only two people in the room.


End file.
